


Little Bird, Why Do You Sing?

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin is heartbroken after Regina tells him Belle threw herself from the tower and died.  As his loneliness continues to eat away at him, a bluebird begins visiting him each day.  He befriends the bird, its company a much needed a distraction from his heartache.  Sometimes when he looks at it, he believes it could almost be human, and Rumpelstiltskin knows things aren't always what they seem.





	Little Bird, Why Do You Sing?

Little Bird, Why Do You Sing?

A/AN: This randomly popped in my head as Rumbelle prompts usually do. I hope you enjoy it!

 

Several months had passed since Regina had visited his castle and given him the fateful news about his maid—the one he'd fallen for but had foolishly pushed away. Rumpelstiltskin sighed, making his way into the garden. It had been her favorite place to read—right under the gazebo surrounded by winding vines of ivy, filled with enchanted rose blooms which never wilted. He'd erected a small monument in her memory—a memorial of sorts. He'd visited it more than he cared to admit, but being in the solace of the place she loved most, with sunlight leaking through the gazebo, casting warm pools of sunshine on the ground—brought peace to his withered soul. 

As he lounged under the gazebo that afternoon, he heard something he hadn't heard before. He pealed his ears to hear a bird singing a heartfelt tune. He glanced up, seeing a bluebird perched on a vine. It gazed back at him, twittering another tune. 

Animals could usually sense his darkness, opting to stay away, but this bird was certainly an exception. Rumpelstiltskin whistled a soft melody. The bird mimicked his tune, singing it back to him, full of perfect precision. 

“What a queer little thing you are,” he said to the bird, holding out his hand in a welcoming gesture. The bird was mad, because it flew straight to him, landing on his outstretched arm. He blinked owlishly, drawing his arm closer to his face. The bluebird chirped gaily before flying off. 

A tinge of melancholy stung his heart. He hated to see it go, and he realized how idiotic he felt to wish for a bird's company. He made his way back into the castle, deciding to busy his mind with a potion he was concocting for Prince James. He would be here to retrieve it by the end of the week, and he wanted to make sure it was ready.

As Rumpelstiltskin busied himself with his potion making, he decided to open the window to allow some sunlight to filter through. He'd been doing it ever since Belle had opened the curtains he'd nailed down. As he reached for the vial of dragon's blood, he nearly dropped the precious ingredient upon hearing a familiar bird song. He glanced at the window to see the exact bluebird from earlier that day had landed on his windowsill.

Instead of becoming vexed by the intrusion as he normally would have, he found a smile tugging at his lips. He placed the vial on the table, outstretching his hand for the bird to perch on. It flew towards him, sitting on his shoulder this time. He continued his workload, humming quietly to himself as the bird stayed still, contentedly resting on his shoulder all afternoon. 

It wasn't until the first signs of dusk appeared that the bird flew from his shoulder, out the open window. Rumpelstiltskin finished up his workload before retiring for the evening, but he left the window open, just in case his new feather friend wished to come back for a visit.

Rumpelstiltskin spent his nights spinning, and barely ever slept. As the night transferred back to dawn, he was amazed to find his bluebird back on the windowsill. He giggled impishly at the creature. 

“Why is it that you wish to keep an old monster company, little bird? Aren't you afraid of me?” he asked as if believed it could understand what he was saying. The bluebird flew back to him, landing on his spinning wheel, and belting out its morning melody. Rumpelstiltskin conjured up some breadcrumbs, holding out his hand. The bird landed on his palm, gobbling up the crumbs heartily.

“You certainly are a peculiar little creature,” he snickered in amusement. The bird raised up its head, tittering at him. 

As the days continued to pass, Rumpelstiltskin found himself growing more attached to the bird. It would always leave him at dusk, but reappear during the first light of dawn and stay with him all day. It had become his constant companion, and he found himself itching to name it, no matter how foolish he reminded himself it was to name a bird.

Nevertheless, he decided to name it. One bright sunny morning as he was sitting under the gazebo, beneath the winding ivy and rose blooms, the little bird landed on the edge of his index finger. He glanced at it as it ruffled its feathers, drying off from the morning dew. 

“Dare I say you've been my only friend for the last several weeks, little bird? I don't know why you decided to roost amongst a monster's lair, nor desired to keep him company, but if you're to stay with me, then I'm going to stop calling you little bird. This place is very special to me, and the exact place we met. You may not realize it, but it's dedicated to the woman I love. She died, after throwing herself from a tower. It's my fault she's gone. Her name was Belle, and how I loved her so. That is to be your name, little bird. Belle it shall be, for you brought a sliver of beauty back into my life when there was only darkness,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, placing a little kiss atop its feathery head. 

His pupils blew wide as a golden light enveloped the bird, transforming it into a beautiful young woman—one he immediately recognized. 

“Belle?” he queried in disbelief, gaping at the woman wearing a thin shift. 

“Rumple!” she bellowed, running towards him, throwing her arms around him in joyous revelry. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him from her abrupt motion. He held onto her tightly, stepping back momentarily to analyze her appearance.

“Belle, how is this possible...I thought you'd died,” he said, the words rushing from his mouth. 

“It's true that I threw myself from the tower, but upon my descent, I decided I wanted to live, and I prayed to the gods, asking them for another chance. Before I hit the ground, I turned into a bluebird. It took me quite sometime to find your castle. The moment you kissed me, the spell was broken,” she illuminated, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. 

Rumpelstiltskin looked at her in disbelief as if she were some apparition and this was another cruel joke his subconscious was playing upon him. Suddenly, in one fluid motion, her lips were on his. As she broke the kiss, he realized it wasn't a dream. 

“Belle,” he whispered her name reverently, cradling her face in his palms. 

“My little bird,” his voice trembling as he beheld her, his one true love, barely scathed by death.

“Yes,” she smiled, holding his hand against her cheek, reveling in his touch.

“What made you decide to come back? I was truly cruel to you, Belle,” he spoke, not a hint of the imp within his voice, but the man beneath.

“I know, but I realize you were just afraid. I forgive you, Rumpelstiltskin, and all I wish is for us to be together,” she replied, startling him.

“Really?” he marveled in disbelief.

“Yes, really,” she said, kissing him again. “Now how about we head back to your castle? I'm sure there's plenty of chores I need to catch up on.”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “You shall not be my servant any longer, Belle.” He bent low upon his right knee, conjuring a thin golden band out of crimson smoke. “I won't conceal my feelings for you any longer, because it's what made me lose you the first time. Will you marry me?” he proposed, his countenance sincere. 

“Yes, I shall certainly marry you,” she cried, tears streaming down her face as he placed the ring on her third left finger. 

“Don't cry, my little bird,” he rose to his feet, caressing her cheek ardently. 

“These are tears of happiness, Rumple,” she hiccupped as he dusted locks of chestnut hair from her eyes.

“I love you, Belle,” he sighed, wrapping his cloak around her lithe frame.

“And I love you too, Rumpelstiltskin,” she professed, sighing happily, the declaration of her love far more beautiful than any birdsong he'd ever heard.

The castle seemed more cozy that evening as he spun, and he assumed it was because Belle was curled up on the settee beside him, fully engrossed in a novel. Her presence made every dreary day brighter, and he could almost recount the song she'd first sang to him that day under the gazebo—a love song that had called out to him; one which his heart only recognized.

The End


End file.
